Personal Log
by LadyPeck
Summary: Not even the vast differences in time can stop Michael from looking out for Spock.


**Message Number 1**

The first time Spock got a message he was certain he was the victim of a prank. Not just a prank, but one that was unspeakably cruel.

The Enterprise sat at the edge of what could only be described as a blank expanse. There were no stars, no readable planetoids, nothing but a slight reading of radiation. The Enterprise faced the area that was devoid of light. A black blob that swallowed a probe, apparently blocking any information it might send back to let the crew know what exactly, if anything, was inside.

Then, at his station, a message appeared on his screen: Don't enter the expanse. It's nothing but a graveyard. The Enterprise will be drained of its energy, and the crew die slow, hard deaths as it sucks the life out of them. Your ship will drift for over a hundred years before the Federation finds it again. Love, Michael.

Love, Michael?

Spock's first reaction was to look around the bridge to see if he could catch someone smirking in his direction, thinking their little joke amusing, but all crew members were busy at their stations, attending their duties.

"Well, looks like we'll have to go in after that probe," Pike said. "Take a look-see for ourselves."

His console beeped again. He looked at the screen.

Don't be a fool, Brother. Tell Pike not to enter the expanse. You didn't listen the last time and you all died. Please, believe it's me. Don't be as hard-headed as you were that time when I told you not to eat the cheesecake made from goat milk. You couldn't digest it and you were sick for two days.

Spock frowned at the screen. Only Michael and his mother knew of that incident, and he knew his mother wouldn't impersonate Michael.

According to the messages the first one he received had warned him, he'd ignored it, and apparently the crew had died, and now he was receiving another message in the hopes it would change their initial destiny. Someone was playing with time. Or trying to convince him that they were.

"Helm," Pike said. "Set a course-"

"Captain," he said, deciding that it was best to speak up until the source of the messages could be verified. "I have received two messages warning us not to enter the expanse."

"Source of the messages?" the first officer, Number One, asked.

"Unknown. Considering the unknown fate of the probe, the lack of sensor data, and this warning, I believe it would be prudent to proceed with caution until the messages can be authenticated."

"We've got nothing else to do," Pike said, shrugging. "It couldn't hurt to wait."

"Sir," Number One said, "the expanse is two kilometers closer to us than it was a minute ago, but we haven't moved."

"Back us off," he ordered.

"It's keeping pace."

Spock's console beeped again. The expanse is naturally drawn to the antimatter in the warp core. Set your shields to random frequency modulation. Rapid. That will be enough to keep you safe. The expanse will be successfully explored by the Federation in the year 2372 by the USS Farragut. Leave it to them to solve this mystery.

Spock relayed the message to Captain Pike. The change in the shield harmonics immediately stopped the expanses advance on the ship. Though it took an hour of steady work, the temporal signature of the messages indicated it indeed came from the future.

Had Michael found a way to communicate with him? Could he communicate back?

He spent the next six months trying to reply to the message but to no avail.

**Message Number 2**

Beware the woman named Gaddi. She is not an ally, but an enemy. You'll want to trust her, but don't. She doesn't want to love you.

Love me? Spock wondered, as he looked at the tiny text message on his communicator. Gaddi? He wracked his mind trying to pull the name from memory but to no avail. He'd never met anyone named Gaddi.

He finished his drink and set it on the bar, having fulfilled his captain's wishes that he 'live a little and socialize.' He'd spoken to several crewmen on shore leave, and had even stayed for an hour in this drinking establishment. He now wished return to the library he'd found so that he may study the history of the people of the planet they now visited.

An idea occurred to him, one so simple he was embarrassed it hadn't occurred to him in the six months he tried to send a message to the future. If Michael was in the future, she must have access to his personal logs. She knew everything that was going to happen to him, and was trying to protect him. It was irresponsible, he thought, but he could understand, and appreciate, her desire to look out for him.

"Personal log," Spock said, speaking into his communicator. "Who is Gaddi and what will she do?"

He received a reply almost at once. She will steal the Enterprise and sell it on the latinum market. It'll be used by Klingons to attack a federation outpost. The devastation to the timeline will be immense. Plus, you'll be left heartbroken, because she convinces you she's in love with you. Your love for her will be one-sided.

He no sooner stood up and turned than he ran, literally, into an attractive woman. She was a planetary native, very similar in appearance to Vulcans, with pointed ears that were longer and more delicate in appearance, upswept eyebrows, and lavender skin. She flushed a bit as she caught hold of him to steady herself.

"Apologies," Spock said, helping her regain her balance.

She smiled brightly at him. "Taking into account your considerable beauty, I'll forgive you."

Spock felt his hears heat up at the compliment. Try as he might, women flustered him, especially when they complimented him.

"I'm Gaddi. You are?"

"I am not interested," Spock said, before leaving her, with a gaping mouth, to beam up to the ship and warn the captain of what Gaddi intended to do.

**Message Number 3**

Dance with Uhura. You will never regret it.

Lieutenant Commander Spock looked at the crew. Almost nobody from the old days remained. Captain Pike was wheelchair bound. Number One was dead. Dr. Boyce retired. Now he stood in the corner of the lounge and watched the all new crew mingling, trying to get to know one another. His communicator screen had a message that perplexed him. Dance? Him?

"Personal log: Absurd, Sister. I do not dance."

You will this time.

Spock looks up to see a stunningly beautiful young woman approach. His mouth goes dry, and he remembers something Michael told him. People will reach for him. Let them.

This young woman holds a hand out to him. She's a communications officer. One of the best he'd ever seen.

"I'm Uhura. Nyota Uhura."

"Spock."

"Dance with me, Spock."

Her smile was inviting. She was a comely, buxom young woman. He found himself taking her hand, letting her lead him to the dance floor. The song was slow. She wrapped her arms around his middle and they held one another, swaying slowly.

In the years to come Spock was grateful for that dance. For that message. Michael had been right. He never regretted it. Not even when he had to watch Uhura die of old age.

**Message Number 4**

I love you too.

Spock had just made a personal log. The response came back at once.

"Personal log: I miss you."

I miss you too.

"Personal log: Find a way home. Please."

I would if I could.

"Personal log: Help me come to you. I am in the twilight of my life. Old. I want to spend my final years with you."

History needs you. There is more for you to do.

"Personal log: I've been dead hundreds of years to you. Perhaps you no longer mourn me as I mourn you."

I miss you every day. I will love you and miss you until I draw my last breath.

"Personal log: please stop messaging me. I cannot move on. I need this pain to end. I do not wish to die with it."

Spock puts his communicator away and weeps for her when she doesn't respond. He looks at her final message and wipes at his tears. Though it hurts he knows...it's the perfect goodbye.


End file.
